Living Shadow
by Big Rando
Summary: There is a new employee hired for RED, a spy. Her predecessor, the original Red Spy, has gone missing under mysterious circumstances. She accepts the job offer, but at what cost? AN: This was written in my old style, but I'd like to test the waters. Constructive criticism is welcome, and depending on how this is received, I may add a revamped chapter. Thank you & please comment.
1. Chapter 1 (The Original)

August, 1968

The desert rolled by in a dry blur as a tired, rusted bus bumpily made its way down the scorched pavement of the roadway, trailing dust in its wake. The driver loosened his grip momentarily, reaching up with his left hand to wipe his brow, hitting a few dips in the road as he did. As beautiful as he thought the badlands were, he could hardly stand the searing heat of these treks.

His eyes flitted up to his passengers, hoping they didn't notice. He received a few annoyed glances from the murmuring bunch of boys in the front few seats, and the woman in the far back slowly lifted her head, groggily opening her eyes as she did. He couldn't help but feel a bit bad for waking her.

"Watch the road, will ya!" One boy shot irritably. He looked back to his friends for validation, and they grinned back at him snidely. From the looks of them they appeared to be in high school, all wearing identical blue and grey letterman jackets.

_I'd like to see you drive this thing…_ The driver thought to himself angrily, gripping the wheel tightly after taking a long drag from his cigarette.

After a moment, they continued their rude conversation about their female classmates' assets. The woman in back grimacing somewhat, wishing she was still asleep. She pivoted her head toward the grimy window again, taking in the scenery for only a moment. She knew she wasn't here to sight see.

Reminding herself, she looked down to her lap, there a neatly folded letter of acceptance lay next to her sunglasses with thick, tortoiseshell rims and large, rounded, black lenses.

She took the letter up again, glancing across the typed words of congratulations and thankfulness at taking the job, all signed by a Ms. Pauling. The reader checked the address again, making absolutely sure she was pointed in the right direction.

_Teufort…_ The woman mused as she folded the letter again and stowed it away. She'd never heard of it, even with all the years of travel she'd spent. She had been in America before, but strictly on business and only in cities. The woman turned to the window again listlessly and sighed, hoping the desert would give way to something other than the endless yellow flatness.

The bus finally slowed its jarring ride and came to a halt.

"Teufort stop." The bus driver drawled, the woman rose to her feet, smiling slightly in relief, as she pulled her Italian leather suitcase out from the overhead compartment, and she gracefully made her way to the head of the bus, putting on her sunglasses as she went. She barred momentarily at the steps.

"Merci, driver." She said as her shoes landed on the dusty ground, she shot him a quick smile.

"Welcome to America's Gravel Basket, Miss." He said kindly, his voice was coarse.

The door squeaked and snagged a bit on their way shutting, but finally closed as the vehicle bumbled away, streaming a trail of black exhaust and leaving this woman to find her new life.


	2. Chapter 2 (The Original)

The woman stood for a time, letting the finality of her decision sink in. She took a deep breath, and torrid air filled her lungs as the stagnant heat pressed in like a coat of lead. The sun stared down unrelentingly and was directly overhead, silhouetting dark, circling, specters. Looking skyward, she noticed the vultures congregating and calling about her and noted their lack of subtlety, as if they were heckling her. They were after all, simply waiting, but the woman however, would give them no such satisfaction.

She set her suitcase down for a moment and reached into her breast pocket with her left hand, pulling out a thin, rectangular case. She flipped it open and with her other hand touched a finger to its contents. From it, she pulled a thin cigarette, and placed between her pale, rosy lips. With a flourish and click, she lit her smoke with a zippo lighter. She took a deep breathe of it, becoming more at ease with her choice as the moments drew on.

In several minutes, she finished feeding her addiction. The woman tossed the butt to the ground, like a discarded plaything, and snuffed out the embers with the sole of her shoe. Reaching up, she wiped her brow and then glanced to the horizon. She could see Teufort, in all its backwater glory. The woman thought again of Pauling's description of the town, "charmingly quaint," chuckling a bit to herself. Pauling gave the place more credit than it deserved.

She had stood for long enough; there was a schedule to keep and her new place of employment to find. She was standing on an old, forgotten road branching from the main one, and she was at the edge of town. She was fairly concerned with how far and where her new livelihood would be exactly, but she reasoned she could follow the large, and numerous Mann Co. billboards dotting the way. This company, like the birds, was not exactly subtle.

After about a half hour walk she was in the thick of the negligible frontier town. To her, it seemed just like a slightly updated western movie one; only this one had cars. Teufort had the same roughness, the "American" spirit, despite the fact that many western movies were shot in Italy. It even still seemed to radiate an undercurrent of xenophobia.

She wasn't surprised at a few of the looks she received from the yokels; women in suits were unheard of and discouraged. She was a finely dressed woman, wearing a perfectly-tailored, pinstripe, burgundy pantsuit and tie. Her platinum-blonde hair was cut to pixie with bangs parted to the left. She was French, however, so she considered that too. She smelt of Europe, and it was painfully obvious. It didn't bother her, she wouldn't see them again, or perhaps more accurately, they wouldn't see her.

The rabble wouldn't need to worry, well, not too much. She wasn't here for them, however at that moment she gave her wristwatch a quick look. She was still on time, luckily, but she reasoned to be fashionable early. Employers seem to like punctuality, especially in her line of work.

She continued her strut down the main and only street for a little while, and at last she could see it. Beyond a chain link fence and more dusted earth lay the massive, concrete RED base, the sun lowering behind it, staining the clouds deep crimson. With a recovered vigor, she made her way down the lengthy driveway to the entrance, ready for what would meet her.


	3. Chapter 1 (Official and Improved)

AN: Here is the better version of chapter one, and this will be likely be my final upload for this piece to this particular website. One day, I will finish, and when I do, I will update this with a notification of such event. I apologize for the tease, considering I won't be done for a long time, but please feel free to review and/or give me an analysis. I am eager to hear from everyone! Thank you all so much, and happy reading :D

1:35 PM, Thursday, August 01, 1968

The land lay motionless as though the heat had smothered away all life. The sun stared down from its celestial pedestal like a perverse deity as the world wallowed below, drenched in scorching suffocation. A feeble wind stumbled through the New Mexican badlands, as if attempting to flee, but it too sputtered away into nothingness. All was still, and all was silent.

In the distance mesas and plateaus spanned the horizon, lonely spires in the dust. Down among them, a thin vein of road slithered through the landscape, dotted with carrion and sizzling like a griddle. Through the nation's artery the rusted cell of a bus rolled and bumbled along.

The hum of the solitary fan, the snap of a lighter, the grumbles of a discontented driver, mechanical creaks and groans, boyish murmurs and the occasional guffaw filled the vehicle as it ran toward its destination.

In the front left rows, a group of high school boys wearing identical letterman jackets chatted noisily, snorting aloud, making vulgar conversation.

The driver took a long drag from his cigarette; the smell of cheap tobacco hung like a corpse from rope, permeating the bus' tiny atmosphere. He glanced up to his rearview mirror, hitting a few dips in the road as he did, rattling the passengers. One of the teenagers shot a perturbed glare at the mirror, but soon returned to their group discussion concerning the promiscuity and assets of their female classmates.

The driver's eyes shifted toward the back. A suited woman was shaken from slumber. She groggily opened her pale green eyes, grimacing somewhat. She brought her hand up, wiping sleep away and massaging her temples. She yawned gently and then pivoted her head languidly to the grimy window, watching yellow endlessness run by, admiring the scenery for a brief moment. It had a certain kind of beauty about it, but she soon reminded herself that she wasn't there to sight see.

On her lap, a tidy letter sat beside a pair of rounded, tortoise shell, sunglasses and a bus ticket, complimentarily paid for. The woman held the envelope and removed the letter of acceptance to read it over once again.

Bold, black type spoke of thankfulness for taking the job and praise for seeming to be the only qualified applicant. The note went on speaking of all the wonderful opportunities that were now suddenly open to her. The letter, as a whole, had a very chipper and upbeat tone, unsettlingly so; it had that certain deluded bias politicians were fond of. It finished with well wishes and curvy signature from someone named Pauling.

The natural cynic in her knew that she was likely the only applicant, despite such promises of good pay. From what she could gather from some prior digging, her new employers, a daughter company of TF Industries, were known to be, at the very least, questionable in their dealings. It was no place for any real honest people, aside from the ones who were just dumb enough not to notice. The company had their secrets, but she was no exception. Deceit came with her job.

She finished reading the letter, and peered at the return address.

_Teufort…_she mused. It was an odd name for a town. She'd never heard of it, even with all the years of travel she'd spent. She had been in America before, but it seemed like a lifetime ago, and she had been confined to only large cities, strictly on business. Rural America was unfamiliar and strange, but most places were when compared to the crowded sprawl of European cities.

She folded the note, and placed it neatly back into its home, stowing it away in her suit pocket.

Boredom was a fickle thing, seeming only to prod those waiting. The woman toyed with the idea of resting her eyes again to pass time, but decided against it. Having gone all this way just to miss her stop didn't appeal to her at the moment. She instead pulled out a small, hard-backed book with yellowed pages and a beaten binding from one of her many pockets. It was an old collection of fairy tales by Hans Christian Andersen, the Grimm Brothers, and Charles Perrault. She opened to the "The Shadow," a favorite of hers. Despite having read through the book cover to cover several times over, she still found it to be entertaining and a fantastic way to occupy herself, a distraction from the otherwise dull world.

She read for what felt like another hour, leafing through pages. Then, she felt the bus slow and finally halt.

The driver coughed loudly but eventually said "Teufort stop," in a hoarse, gravelly voice as the front exit squeaked open. The woman allowed a slight smile to cross her face, and she rose to her feet, the only one departing the vehicle. She placed the book from where it had come, and she reached to an overhead compartment containing her luggage bound in Italian leather. Tugging at the handle, she brought the suitcase down with her left hand, and she made her way toward the front exit of the bus, putting on her sunglasses as she did.

Dust pooled about her ankles as her expensively clad feet landed on the ground, and the woman turned, nodding to the driver. He tipped his hat, closed the squealing door, and drove off, trailing thick, black exhaust. She was alone to find her way.


End file.
